Adventure is Out There
by MirrorImage003
Summary: Inspired by the Pixar movie, Up, it follows the life of Chaud Blaze, and his search for adventure. Be prepared for lots of fluff, and of course some tears. Pairing: Chaud/Maylu. No flames please. One-shot.


Disclaimer: I have no rights to the concepts or characters of Up or Megaman.

Just a warning, the character's are kind of OOC, but this is an alternate universe of course.

This plot bunny wouldn't leave my head, so here you go! If you don't like the pairing, then no point in reading. For some of the parts, you need to read between the lines a little.

* * *

Six years old:

Chaud's eyes widen, gaze locking on the figure twenty feet away from him. Standing right there, tall and proud, is his role model, Dr. Wily.

The man is surrounded by paparazzi, who swarm him with questions of his latest escapade, his upcoming plans for scavenging the unknown world, and what he is going to invent next. He is in the midst of answering the reporters when his eyes catch on the little boy staring in awe at him.

Chaud gasps when his hero flashes him a smile before turning his attention back to the cameras. His Italian shoe covered feet carry him forward on their own accord, big blue eyes focused solely on the great explorer. He is intent on meeting him, on talking to him. He _has_ to.

"What did I tell you about running off?" A deep voice chastizes him just as he is yanked back by the collar of his mini-tux. Chaud looks up to see the hard eyes of his father, and reluctantly glances once more back at the adventurer before turning away. "I mean it, Chaud. Stay close."

The child nods and pays better attention, not daring to test his father's temper. Tonight they are on the red carpet, the center of the media. It's just the promotion needed to kick the company into gear. Chaud knows his father is expecting lots of profits from the press conference. He knows he must not get in the way, and he must be on his best behavior. He knows things are not going to be the same after tonight.

He wishes he was the son of Dr. Wily, so he could go on adventures, create cool things, and go on far off trips. He does not want to be the successor of a business company.

Nine years old:

He does not have any friends. He doesn't have time for friends in his busy life. Who wants to be friends with someone as socially awkward as him anyways?

So he settles for the next best thing to a friend; Protoman. His own personal navi.

It's a new invention of Dr. Wily's, a blooming idea that people all over the world have payed mountains of money to own. These virtual people, although intriguing, are limited in their abilities. After all, it's a fairly underdeveloped creation.

But Chaud could care less about the _function_ of the navi. He just wants someone to _talk_ to. It was a difficult process to persuade his father to buy him one, but it had been worth it, because now they are a team.

At first, Protoman had been scary. He rarely talked, unless spoken directly to, and his dark shades intimidated the young boy. It took a full two weeks before Chaud began to see the softer side to his navi, the side where he smiled more and frowned less. Chaud thinks it's a good thing that Protoman is just as socially awkward as him.

No, Chaud does not have any friends, but he does have a _best_ friend.

Ten years old:

Chaud does not laugh much anymore.

Studying and learning to manage a business has stolen away his youth. He tries very hard not to laugh or smile (unless he is with Protoman), but to be grown up and mature so that his father will be proud of him one day. He is destined to inherit his father's company, and a boss absolutely _has_ to be serious.

He has become very good at being serious, and exceptional at remaining stoic.

Yet today, he is finding it extremely difficult to keep laughter at bay.

The source of his struggle is the peculiar girl hanging upside-down in a tree.

"Hey! Stop laughing at me!" Her face has gone red from the blood rushing to her head, making her look like a tomato. One side of her pink shorts is ripped and caught on a branch, and there are leaves and twigs sticking out all over the place in her hair. She looks absolutely ridiculous. "Help me get down!"

Chaud immediately furrows his brows and screws up his mouth in attempt to choke down the bubbling feeling in his throat. He gives her a very stern look. "I'm not laughing."

She rolls her brown eyes, arms wrapping tighter around the branch she's stuck on. "Whatever. Just help me down. Now!"

He blinks at the nerve of this girl. He isn't used to being bossed around by anyone but his father or Protoman. He should feel indignant, outraged even, but instead, he finds himself gripping the trunk of the tree and muttering, "Hold on," to the girl.

By the time they're safely on the ground, both have gained a few small cuts and bruises, but nothing big enough to warrant panic or tears.

"Thanks for getting me outta that stupid tree!" She smiles brightly at him, not bothering to wipe away the dirt smudges on her arms and legs. Her hand sticks out towards him. "I'm Maylu, by the way, and I'm eight years old!"

Enzan hesitantly shakes her hand. "I'm Chaud, and I'm ten."

She doesn't let go of his hand like he expects her to, but narrows her eyes and scrutinizes him. "Your hair is weird."

He recoils slightly in surprise, ears turning red. His hand drops hers and he glares at the girl. "Well, yours is too!" He retorts, flustered. "Who's ever heard of pink hair?!"

She laughs loudly, and Chaud becomes even more bewildered. Her huge brown eyes twinkle up at him. "You're funny. I like you!" She grabs his hand again, twirling on her heel and all but dragging him down the sidewalk. "Let's go play in my treehouse! We can go on an adventure, just like Dr. Wily!"

And just like that, Chaud has a new best friend.

Thirteen years old:

"Do you think Protoman ever gets lonely?"

Enzan looks up from his homework, raising an eyebrow at the girl sitting across from him. "Why would he be lonely? He has us."

Maylu shrugs, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. "I dunno. Like, doesn't he ever want a friend that's a navi like him?"

He narrows his eyes in thought before putting his attention back on his math. "Maybe."

Two months later, it's her birthday, and when her gives her her gift, she launches herself at him, shrieking with joy.

He smiles and turns the device on. "See? Now you can have your own, and Blues won't be alone anymore."

Maylu watches the screen come to life, a pink navi with yellow antennas blinking open green eyes for the first time. "What's her name?"

"Whatever you want."

She smiles in wonder at the little digital figure. "Hi, I'm Maylu!"

The navi waves warmly. "Hello!"

"How do you like the name 'Roll?'"

"I love it!"

The pink haired girl grabbed at Enzan's PET, excitement lighting up her eyes. "Hey, Roll. Meet Protoman."

Chaud's father punishes him later for using so much of the business's money on Maylu's present, but he thinks the smile on her face when she first met Roll was worth it one milion times over.

Fifteen years old:

Even after all these years, just the name 'Dr. Wily' is enough to make a jolt of childlike excitement fill Chaud to the brim. Except, whereas he had been alone in his exaltation of the explorer as a child, now he has a companion that shares his lust for adventure.

"Oooh, what about here?"

Enzan looks to where she's pointing in the book. "Australia?"

"Yeah! See! It says that there are all kinds of lethal animals here. Like snakes, and fish, and spiders-"

He glances at her skeptically. "I thought you wanted an exciting trip, not a trip to _death_."

She waves her hand carelessly, flipping through more pages. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you. But an adventure is never fun without some kind of danger. Besides, Dr. Wily went to Austria-"

"Australia."

"-and he survived just fine!"

The dual-haired boy shifts to lay down on his stomach. "But he's a legend! Not just anyone can go into the great unknown and come out alive. You have to be experienced. You have to be a pro."

She pauses in her browsing to look sideways at him. "Determination is always more important than skill."

He remains silent for a while, watching her search eagerly through the articles and pictures, as he folds his mind around her words. Was it true? Yes, self-motivation is important and necessary for success, but does it really make more of a difference than raw talent?

Her sharp inhale brings him back to the present. Her eyes are glued to the page, finger tracing the edges of a picture. "Here," She says softly.

"One day, we're going to go here." Her voice gains enthusiasm. "Promise you'll take us there."

He memorizes the picture on the paper. "I promise."

She shakes her head, swiveling on her bottom so that she's facing him. "Nuh-uh. For something this sacred, you gotta swear it." She brings her hand up, sticking out her littlest finger. "Pinky swear."

He almost laughs, leaning onto his side so that he can lift his hand. Their fingers lock, and he meets her intense gaze. "I pinky swear."

Her mouth curves upwards, teeth flashing white, and he smiles back.

"We're going to South America."

Eighteen years old:

The camera flashes and nosy questions from the paparazzi don't faze him anymore. Chaud looks straight ahead, ignoring their presence, and follows behind his father. He doesn't worry about his suitcases at the baggage claim; his butler and bodyguards will help out with that.

When their limo finally reaches home, Chaud's father dismisses him, and he doesn't hesitate in making a beeline to his room. It's been a long six months of travelling and learning the ways of becoming a business CEO, which meant absolutely no time to himself that didn't involve working. So when the opportunity to _finally_ flee his father's overbearing presence presented itself, Chaud didn't pass it up. The moment he was in his room, he collapsed on the king-sized bed.

Not five minutes later, Protoman's voice interupted his well-earned peace. "You're recieving a call, Chaud." The teen in question groaned, swiping a hand over his face.

"Ignore it. I can't deal with any more business negotiations or I'm going to explode."

"It's Maylu."

Chaud blinks in confusion, memories beginning to resurface. Six months is a long time to be separated from your best friend. Of course they talked over the phone or email, but even then those exchanges were few and far in-between. He's a little scared things are going to be different.

"Pick up."

"Chaud?!" Her voice is loud in the speaker, and he winces. "I heard you were back in town! How was it? Did you see anything exciting? I bet you had tons of fun!"

"I told you before I left, Maylu. This wasn't an adventure, it was just an extended company trip. No fun, just a lot of work."

"Tch. Stop being so grumpy."

"I'm not grum-"

"Anyways! Roll and I have missed you guys a lot. You should come down to the treehouse! It's been ages!"

"I don't know if I-"

"Great! See you there in fifteen!"

The line cut. He sighed in exasperation, but nevertheless, pulled on something other than a business suit and made his way out the door. He's learned by now that nothing is scarier than facing her wrath.

Ten minutes later he was climbing the rope ladder into the old tree, a feeling of nostalgia overcoming him. He had to maneuver around a bit to fit through the entrance, his shoulders having become much broader since he was a child. Halfway into squeezing himself inside the little tree house, he stopped.

There was a banner strewn along the wall that read, "Welcome Home, Chaud!" in black and pink paint, streamers hanging everywhere, and two cupcakes sitting neatly on a plate. But the reason for his halt was the girl standing in the middle of it all.

He could've sworn that she hadn't looked like that last time he'd seen her.

Her pink hair was longer now, reaching the middle of her back. Her baby fat had seemingly disappeared, face slim and cheekbones sharp. His cheeks felt hot when he noticed some _other_ changes she had underwent.

"Welcome home." She smiled, warm brown eyes sparkling and full pink lips lifting. His heartbeat stuttered. "Hurry up and get in here, or I'm gonna eat your cupcake too!"

He nodded, slightly speechless, and hoisted himself up. The moment he was standing (more like crouching-the treehouse wasn't as big as he remembered) she wrapped both arms around his neck, hugging him close. It was only after a second of hesitation that Enzan hugged her back.

"I missed you." He felt the ghost of her breath on his neck, sending shivers down his back.

"I missed you too."

She pulled away just enough to see his face, and laughed. Chaud tried to ignore the fluttering in his chest at the sound. And when she stepped out of the embrace, it took more effort than he was willing to admit to refrain from pulling her back in.

Oh, boy. He's in trouble.

Twenty years old:

His cheek stung.

"_Get out!_" He strode forward proudly, not turning to acknowledge the insults being hurled at his back. "You choose a _girl_ over everything we have ever worked for?! You could've had anything you'd ever wanted! You were given the ability of a monopoly, and you're throwing it all away!"

His face will probably bruise, but he could care less.

"You are no son of mine!"

There's a song of freedom ringing in his heart, drowning out the curses invading his ears.

"_Don't show your face here again!_"

The door behind him slams shut. A smile breaks out across his face.

She had been right.

Determination is always more important than skill.

Twenty-one years old:

Her cheeks are rosy, white dress making her look surreal. He carries her into the house, the house they built right next to the little treehouse that holds so many precious memories.

"You're a married boy now, Mr. Blaze." She says very seriously, but he can see the laugh she is hiding.

He raises an eyebrow, kicking the door closed behind him. "Boy? I think I'm qualified to be called a man by now."

He is caught off guard by the sudden look in her eyes. Her hand begins to make little circles on the back of his neck. His breathing shortens.

"Not quite."

And then he's kissing her, and her hands are on his face, in his hair. He stumbles farther into the house, stopping to adjust his grip on her, pushing her against a wall for support. She doesn't miss a beat, pressing soft kisses down his jawline and back to his lips again. He thinks his heart might burst if it beats any faster.

By the time they make it to the bed, the rest is lost to the night.

Twenty-four years old:

If he'd known leaving his father's business would've been like this, he'd have ditched it so much sooner.

His arm extends slowly, allowing the beautiful bird to inspect his hand before toddling onto it. He tries not to feel too pleased with himself as it settles down without much fuss, dark black eyes watching him calmly. He moves carefully, trying not to startle it, and backs out the door of the South American exhibit. It's ten till opening time, so he has some time before the children begin flooding the zoo grounds.

His gaze catch automatically on the small figure standing by a balloon stand. The corner of his mouth twitches when he sees her straightening out her cream colored, knee length dress meticulously.

Chaud taps on her shoulder, and she jumps, spinning around. "This is Molly. She's a Macaw parrot from South America."

Maylu's face lights up, and she stares in wonder. "She's gorgeous."

His blue eyes flick between the bird and his wife. "You want to pet her?"

She looks up at him in surprise. "Can I?"

"Of course. Just softly, so you don't scare her." He watches her tentatively stroke the parrots head with two fingers, barely applying any pressure. Molly makes a clicking sound in the back of her throat, a pleasured tremor ruffling its feathers. "She's the youngest parrot in the zoo. Protoman said she's abnormally small for her species and age, but I like her the most of all of them."

She laughs, shaking her head. "You always did tend to favor the weird ones." Her eyes take in his appearance, and a sly smile spreads over her face. "Might I add that you look positively dashing in that outfit."

Chaud grins, tipping the round, tan hat to her. The rest of his uniform models a sterotypical explorer, complete with the cargo shorts and brown boots. "And you look quite stunning yourself."

"Well, I try." She winks, and goes on her tiptoes, kissing him on the nose. "Now go back to work! It's going to open soon."

He wouldn't trade this happiness for all the money in the world.

Twenty-eight years old:

It takes several days, but after some hard work, they've managed to repair the old treehouse, even adding more space to it. Blue, red, pink, and yellow paint cover the outside boards. After some advice from Roll, they sawed off a chunk in the wall to serve as a window.

Maylu squeals excitedly when it's finished, babbling on about how pretty it looks, almost like from a picture. Chaud thinks she's practically glowing from happiness, and he can't remember a time she ever looked so absolutely beautiful.

Everything looks perfect. It has to.

They are expecting after all.

Twenty-eight and a half years old:

She does not laugh much anymore.

This devastating turn of events has stolen away her joy. He tries very hard to make her smile, something that Protoman and Roll have also attempted to accomplish, but nothing has worked.

He thinks she would have been a great mother.

The sparkle that had once been in her eye is now just the glint of a tear at the tip of her lashes, and he feels his heart break a little more every time one falls.

It's killing him to see her like this. So he fixes it.

He takes away her sorrow, won't let it eat away at her soul any longer. He kisses away her fear, her guilt, doesn't let her fall asleep with tears in her eyes. He smiles at her more, often being the first to laugh-he hopes that laughter really is contagious. He diverts her attention away from anything that could scare her smile away.

And one day, he finds her sitting in the treehouse. She's still a little too broken, a little too sad. So he talks about the one thing that can bring back his old Maylu.

He talks about adventure.

He talks about paradise, and waterfalls. He talks about rainbows, and golden sunshine, and colorful birds. He talks of South America, and that when they save enough money, they'll take a trip there, like they always wished, and it will be fantastic.

He links his littlest finger with her littlest finger; he pinky swears.

And slowly but surely, he can see the pieces of her spirit being put back together.

Thirty years old:

The days she is happy far outnumber the days that she is sad now, and Enzan couldn't be more grateful.

They go on picnics together when he isn't busy, lying hand in hand on the grass watching the fluffy white clouds drift by. Somedays they eat lunch in the treehouse and sit for hours just talking. During the weekdays, they work at the zoo, never more than forty feet from the other. He shows the children Molly (he's taught her to say a few phrases now) and she gives them all balloons.

These are his favorite days, because these are the days she smiles the most tenderly, and laughs the most; these are the days she can pretend that each little boy or girl she gives a balloon to is _her_ little boy or girl.

The jar sitting on the counter is almost half full of spare change from the past two years. He thinks they will be able to take that trip soon.

Thirty-four years old:

Some kids accidentely threw a baseball through their window today.

He rubs his temples in frustration (he's told them to be careful on _several_ different occasions), but she just sends them on their way, a gentle reprimand at the tip of her tongue.

She chuckles at his expression, reminding him that "kids will be kids," before pouring out the jar of change. Chaud sighs.

Back to square one.

Thirty-nine years old:

She left a candle burning from the early morning. Half their living room is gone.

He can't find it in himself to get mad at her though, when he sees the tears pooling in her eyes. Instead, he gives her a grin and tells her that it's a good thing they're poor and have nothing worth anything to burn.

In four weeks time, the living room is repaired, and the jar is empty.

Forty-two years old:

The jar is tucked behind some old boxes in the attic.

Fifty-five years old:

Soft music fills the air, the evening light putting a perfect golden glow to the room. The two navis exchange a smile (well more of a smirk from one of them) before switching to sleep mode.

They sway back and forth, his hands on her hips, and her's on his shoulders. Her strawberry colored hair has faded now, riddled with grays, and her eyes and cheeks have little wrinkles from where her skin folds when she smiles.

But she's still the most gorgeous thing he's ever laid eyes on.

Her fifty-fourth birthday is in only a few short hours from now, and he has the perfect gift for her. It took him a couple years of saving up, but he thinks that patience is a virtue.

Tomorrow, when they go on their picnic to their favorite little hill, he will present it to her.

Fifty-five years old:

"She's terminally ill."

That's what the doctor said.

There's a fist-sized hole in the wall. Now it's just like his heart.

He'd known something was wrong when she hadn't come to meet him at their usual picnic spot. He hadn't known it was going to be like this.

He's a grown man now, but he isn't too much of a man not to cry.

His bruised and bloodied hand grips hers tightly, head falling onto her small shoulder. The mechanical beeping sounds like a clock, ticking away the time he thought he'd have.

His shoulders begin to shake.

She rubs a thumb over his knuckles, lifting his face from the clean white sheets with a dainty hand. She smiles gently, and he grits his teeth, clenching his eyes shut. This isn't fair.

He feels her lean forward, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. Molly coos softly from her perch on the bedstand.

Her smile never wavers, even if her voice does. "I love you."

"I love you too."

.

.

.

Her eyes haven't opened for over a week.

He knows she would've hated this. She never would have wanted to be stuck between life and death, body deteriorating day by day.

So, he signs the paper, and watches as they pull the plug on her life support, on her dulled eyes, on her fading heartbeat-

-on his soul.

Fifty-five years old:

Many attend the funeral. Old friends, coworkers, even some who had known Meiru as the lady who gave them balloons when they were children.

None stay long after it's ended. No one except for him, Protoman, Roll, and Molly.

He wishes she was here for him to have a shoulder to cry on, but if she was here, then he wouldn't be crying. He's lost his best friend now.

He stands to his feet, bones seeming to creak now more than ever. They say you're only as old as you think you are. With her, he hadn't given age a second thought, but it's different now. His youth died with her.

Outside the church the sun is descending in the sky. He looks at the pink balloon swaying above his head, string grasped tightly in his wrinkled hand.

With the last ounce of strength he has, he lets it go, watching it float high into the sky, disappearing behind the clouds.

"Goodbye, Maylu."

Molly shifts on his shoulder, "I love you."

His sharp blue eyes turn to the bird in shock. It fluffs its feathers, tilting its head, and opening its beak again. "I love you."

Chaud realizes it's imitating her last words. He doesn't stop crying for a while.

Sixty-seven years old:

"...includes four safety pouches with extra straps, three blue velcro strips to..."

"Chaud, there's someone at the door."

He rolls his eyes at the irritating knocking, clicking the volume up on the television. "Just wait till they go away, Protoman."

Five minutes pass, and in that span of time, the knockings don't cease. Roll purses her lips. "I don't think they're going to give up."

"Son of a..." He let out a hiss of air through his teeth before standing up from the old brown chair. Who was crazy enough to come to his house? Everyone knows he's just the 'mean old man with a treehouse.'

He squints his eye looking through the peep hole, but doesnt see anything. With a shrug, Chaud turns back around, beginning the journey back to his comfortable couch.

Knock knock knock.

"For the love of-" His hand jerks the door open. "What do you wa-"

Standing on his porch is a young boy holding a rather thick book in a yellow uniform, hat barely staying on his unruly hair. A backpack stuffed with various exploring tools hangs off his shoulder, and a sash covered in badges sits over his chest.

But what captures Chaud's attention immediately is the large brown eyes staring up at him, full of excitement. It strikes him speechless for a moment.

"Good afternoon. My name is Lan Hikari. I am a Wilderness Explorer in Tri-54, sweat lodge twelve. Are you in need of any assistance today, sir?"


End file.
